


Our song

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Catelyn died before Arya was born, Cousin Incest, F/M, Forbidden Love, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Tumblr Prompt, naerys and prince aemon parallels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 00:48:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17273963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: “Sansa,” Jon sighed, reaching for her hand. “I have to tell you something.”Her heart caught in her throat as fear gripped her. He was going to leave her after everything, after she had done all she could to remain with him.“I love you. Not as a brother but, as a man loves a woman.” He swallowed thickly, turning his head to the side in embarrassment. “I know it isn’t my place, but I know I’ll lose you someday. And I just wanted you to know.”At fourteen, she gave her first kiss to Jon’s sweet, eager mouth.





	Our song

When she had been a young girl, on the coldest nights, or on nights she had a bad dream, she used to come to her brothers’ room and sneak into bed between them.

Robb would always grumble and kick in frustration as he tried to get comfortable but Jon would face her, his hands clasping hers as he asked if something was wrong.

She loved both her brothers dearly but Jon was most like her. He loved the songs as much as she did, he was sweet and gentle and kind, far less competitive and impulsive than Robb. She knew she shouldn’t have favourites, but Jon was hers anyway.

***

She was nine years old when father told them all the truth.

Jon was not her brother but her cousin, Lyanna’s boy and Ned had claimed him as his own to protect him.

They were told harshly, the harshest she had ever heard father, not to say a word to anyone else for if the wrong people found out it could mean all of their heads. It had weighed him down for years. but he had felt as though it was necessary to tell now, with Jon growing older and soon having to make a decision about his future.

Sansa found Jon in the crypts, at the foot of Lyanna’s statue. She paused at her own mother’s statue, which father had ordered made, placing one of the blue roses in Catelyn’s stone hand before proceeding to Jon’s kneeling body.

“I don’t care,” she pointed out simply. “You’re my brother.” She handed him the blue rose and kneeled beside him, her skirts fanning prettily around her feet. “My favourite brother,” she added in a whisper.

Jon managed a ghost of a smile but it was gone just as quickly.

“Thank you, Sansa,” he murmured. “But I wish to be alone, for now.”

She nodded, leaning over to kiss his cheek, saddened by the salty taste of his tears before she followed his wishes and moved away.

***

She was twelve when the first proposals for her hand started to arrive.

And she felt nothing but dread.

All her life, she had been taught to be a good, obedient girl, to excel in her feminine qualities and she had done so. She loved to sing and dance and, as silly as it seemed to some, she loved to dress in fine clothes.

Her favourite dress was one she had made from the sky blue, snow white and frosty grey silk that Jon had given her for her name day the year before. She had made a dress with dire wolves stitched along the hem and snowflakes decorating the neckline. And when Jon commented how beautiful it was, how beautiful she looked in it, she had flushed like a green girl.

Perhaps, if father hadn’t told them the truth, she would have never thought of such things.

But all Sansa knew was that she had always felt closest to Jon, had shared a bond with Jon and now, she knew without any doubt that she was in love with him.

In another life, another time, she could have asked father to make a betrothal. Cousins could marry after all. And Jon was a good man, someone who would love her as much as her father loved her lady mother. Ned Stark had still never remarried, eight years after Catelyn’s death. Sansa often saw him carrying roses down to the crypts and when she visited herself, would see both her aunt and her mother’s statues adorned with blue crowns.

She wished so much for a husband to love her even half as much as father loved mother. But none of her suitors had given her such an impression. Jon was who she wanted, who she loved. Sweet, gentle and brave Jon, who understood her better than anyone else, who she could voice her opinions to without being thought of as a silly, emotional girl. Jon, who would play her knight and steal her lemon cakes simply to see her smile.

It was all she had ever wanted.

Yet, so long as Robert Baratheon still lived, Jon would never be able to be true to who he was.

And Sansa didn’t think that this love she felt for Jon was what Ned Stark had intended when he had told them the truth.

***

At fourteen, flowered at last, Robert Baratheon wrote to her father to announce that he intended visit to Winterfell.

It was claimed he was coming to see his old friend, stating that they had so many years to catch up on. But Sansa had no illusions. She knew the King’s eldest son was coming too. She knew he was of an age with her.

Despite being handsome, Sansa found no attraction to the boy. Yet she remembered her courtesies and paid him compliments, played the part of the fawning maiden besotted with her prince while clad in her wolf dress.

“The King will betroth you to him,” Jon muttered beside her, after they had sneaked away to her chambers.

Since Robb and Jon were old enough to have separate rooms, she had kept her tradition of stealing away to her brother’s chambers, only this time, she only ever went to Jon. And it was a secret they kept, even from Robb.

Sansa liked the ease of it all. How they could just lie and talk until they fell asleep, their bodies curled towards each other, seeking one another naturally in their sleep. It pains her to think of leaving him but she has begged father for two years already not to marry her off.

While Ned could appease his own bannermen with smooth words (she isn’t flowered yet, she has only just flowered, she is my only daughter and I wish to keep her a little longer), she knew no amount of begging, no amount of Ned’s own wishes, could stop him disobeying the king.

“I know,” she sighed, rolling over to face him. She forced a smile. “All my suitors should be called Aegon, for you consider them all unworthy.”

“They  _are_  unworthy,” he replied. “Joffrey especially.”

“Father may be able to reject it, being such good friends with the king.”

“Sansa,” Jon sighed, reaching for her hand. “I have to tell you something.”

Her heart caught in her throat as fear gripped her. He was going to leave her after everything, after she had done all she could to remain with him.

“I love you. Not as a brother but, as a man loves a woman.” He swallowed thickly, turning his head to the side in embarrassment. “I know it isn’t my place, but I know I’ll lose you someday. And I just wanted you to know.”

At fourteen, she gave her first kiss to Jon’s sweet, eager mouth.

***

Two moons after her fifteenth name day, she was clad in a dress of ivory silk and Lannister gold, and led down the aisle to her awaiting prince.

Jon was to the side, the cloak of the Kings guard atop of his shoulders. She did not look at him for fear of giving everything away.

She had begged him to come with her with sweet words, helpless tears and finally with her body. He immediately planned to go with her, announcing himself as her sworn shield, to honour and protect her. Despite the fact she had dishonoured herself with him, many times since that kiss they had shared. Her maidenhead belonged to Jon and, having missed her moon blood, she knew the child inside of her was Jon’s too.

Father had praised her beauty, commenting on how very like her mother she was. For once, the words did not bring her joy. Catelyn’s beauty was envious, Sansa had seen paintings of her lady mother to know that much. But all she could compare with Catelyn now was how they both had to do their duty, despite their heart belonging to another.

But at least her mother had her father, who turned out to be a good and honourable man. They had grown to love each other in their short time together. Sansa knew she would have no such luck with Joffrey.

Her fingers dug into her father's arm as they reached the alter, wishing that she never had to let him go, would never have to step up into the lion's den before her. Ned kissed her brow sweetly as Joffrey took her other hand and pulled her away from her father's arms to stand in front of him.

The whole ceremony passed in a blur, she could barely tell the time between saying her vows and Joffrey's lips on hers. She only knew that it wasn't like Jon's kisses, nothing Joffrey did was like Jon.

She wondered if Joffrey knew that she was no maid.

She wondered if he would have been gentler if she had pretended she was.

***

“He’s hurting you.”

Sansa grimaced, tugging the sleeve over her dress over the bruise on her wrist which had captured Jon’s attention.

“Leave it.” 

“Leave it?” he spluttered, the hand clenching as he reached for her but suddenly thought better of it. “Sansa,” he softened, looking at her gently as he fell in step with her again. “Let me help you.”

“You can’t.” 

“The King,” Jon started but Sansa whirled around angrily.

“And what do you think Robert will do Jon?” she asked coolly. “He hit the Queen once, I saw it.”

“Father loves Robert,” Jon protested. “He must be a good man.”

“Perhaps he was once,” Sansa said with a disinterested shrug. “But whatever bravery Robert had, it died with Rhaegar on the Trident.”

She turned again, storming off before she lost all her control and broke down in tears in front of him. She had never wanted him to know of what Joffrey was like, too scared he would rush in to protect her and get himself killed. Her skin had become like steel when it came to her own treatment, but a world without Jon was what would break her, she knew.

“Does he even care about the babe?”

That made her freeze, her heart hammering against her chest as she turned her head towards him again. He narrowed his eyes slightly, the hurt anger was clear on his face.

“You think I wouldn’t know?” he said.

Sansa pressed her lips together, ducking her face to avoid answering. Jon huffed. “Sansa. I cannot stand by, I cannot.”

“You must,” she insisted sharply. “You are sworn to the King, Jon, not to me.”

“I am only ever yours Sansa,” he corrected.

***

The bells rang out, heavy and solemn. 

Robert was dead and Joffrey was king now.

She appraised herself in the mirror, frowning as her hands curved over the bump of her stomach. Joffrey didn’t like her pregnant body, apart from her breasts, which he would squeeze too roughly in front of his guests. 

Thankfully, his mother had stopped his groping with a hard look, but Sansa still blushed whenever she looked at the Kingsguard knights who had witnessed Joffrey’s eager pawing.

She couldn’t bare to look at Jon at all.

Jon, who rubbed at her feet when she muttered about pains. Jon, who dabbed cool sheets to her forehead when the heat and hormones became too much and held her hair back as she emptied her stomach into her chamber pot.

Even when she felt ugly, Jon loved her.

If she were Jon’s wife, they would still be in their bed, his lips across her skin and his hands stroking her belly. He would murmur to their child and press his lips to hers as he whispered his affections.

“You need to write to father,” Jon murmured as he took her arm.

“And say what?” Sansa hissed, fingers bunching into the material of her dress she held above the steps. “If Robb hears, he’ll march down here himself.”

“And what is wrong with that?”

“Thousands will die Jon!” she admonished, narrowing her eyes at him. “I will not let that happen. I know my duty.”

“And love means nothing to you now?”

She wrenched her arm away. “It means everything. Love for my family means I will do what I must to keep them, and you, alive.”

She hated how soft his touch was, even when she is angry with him, Jon was only ever soft with her.

“And my love for you means I’ll do anything to make sure that you are happy.”

“There is nothing that you can do,” she murmured, turning away from him to enter the hall alone.

***

Since her pregnancy had entered its fifth moon, she had started going for a sleep in the middle of the day. Often, Jon was stationed at her door, by her own request. It was as close as they could be now and Sansa was happy to take whatever she could.

The feel of the hand on her mouth startled her awake. Jon’s face was staring down at her, eyes wide and panicked.

“We have to go,” he hissed, already grabbing her hand and tugging her out of bed.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she pulled her shift over her head and stepped into the dress Jon had held out to her.

“Joffrey is dead,” he whispered, pacing towards the door and listening against the wood for a moment.

“Dead?” she repeated, her movements freezing in her shock.

“He fell from his horse apparently,” he replied before turning to her again. “We have a very small chance Sansa. But we can use this to go home.”

She bit her lip as she tied her laces. Going home was tempting, especially when she didn’t know what would happen to her now that Joffrey was dead. Cersei had always seemed to merely tolerate her and the kindness she had showed was probably more to do with the memories of Robert’s behaviour than genuine concern for Sansa.

“Won’t they come after us?” she asked.

“They wouldn’t dare,” he assured her. “The North is too far and too wild for them to even try and claim you back.”

The doubt must have shown on her face as his face softened and he crossed the floor to squeeze her hands in reassurance.

“I’ll protect you, I promise.”

She nodded, tilting her head to allow him to press a kiss to her temple and then sliding her hand in his so he could lead her away.

Even if they didn’t make it home she thought, she would rather die running with Jon than be parted from him.

She loved him as much as Naerys loved Prince Aemon.


End file.
